Solemn Simplicity
by calla lilly rose
Summary: The boys cope through their first Christmas without their parents and the recent loss of their friends.


S.E. Hinton owns everything, but I finally have my car paid off.

**Solemn Simplicity**

XXX

"You goin' to work _again_ tonight, Dar?"

Darry looked up as he shoved his feet into his boots, lacing them tighter. He was heading out for his third evening shift this week. Killer hours for most, as Darry wouldn't be back until nearly five the next morning, but they both knew Darry had little choice in the matter.

"Yeah. Can't do much roofing until this snow stops. Why? You weren't planning on heading out anywhere, were ya?"

Soda shook his head. "Nah, just wondering. You've been hitting the warehouse nearly every night here lately. Ain't you tired? When's your day off?"

"When spring gets here," Darry muttered with thick sarcasm as he slipped on his coat. "You and Ponyboy hang here at home, hear me? No running around all over town while I'm gone. The temps are supposed to dip into freezing again and I don't need you two out there getting into trouble."

Sodapop grinned. "Now just what kind of trouble you think me and him'll get into?"

Darry tried to hide it but he grinned back. "With you involved, who knows. Just stay put, you hear me?"

Soda nodded and walked Darry to the door. "Yeah sure. We ain't going nowhere in that mess anyway. Just don't go throwing your back out. I'm running out of Ben-Gay."

"Try not to. And if you ain't got nothing better to do, maybe the two of you can do something with that stuff." Darry waved his hand toward a stack of aged cardboard boxes that had been shoved in the corner of the room for days.

"I dunno..." Soda's voice trailed, unsure about it.

"Look, I'm tired of it taking up space. It's no big deal to me ... I'll just put it back in the basement tomorrow if you guys ain't interested. Either way, I don't care, but the boxes need to go. Speaking of going," he looked at his watch, "I got to or I'll be late. Night."

Soda watched from the window as their truck slipped a bit as Darry pulled away. "I hope you know what you're doing," he mumbled as the truck turned the corner and disappeared. He eyed the boxes but felt no immediate need to dive in. Instead, he flipped on the television to a channel that was playing some animated Christmas show. "Hey Pone, you wanna come watch TV?" he yelled through the walls.

"What show?" came the muffled reply.

"I dunno, some cheesy Christmas nonsense they got on the set."

"I think I'm a bit old for Santa, don't you think?" said Ponyboy as he came down the hall. He stopped and looked at the show Soda'd found. "Chipmunks? Really?"

Soda grinned as he plopped onto the sofa. "Wha? If Two-Bit were here, he'd watch it."

"I ain't Two-Bit," Ponyboy answered with a droll. "Oh all right. Scoot over," he said as he took the other side of the couch. For a while they just sat there watching the cartoon, neither speaking until a commercial. "What the heck is that?" Pony asked, noticing something new on the coffee table. He picked it up and looked at it, confused as to why Sodapop would have a miniature gas station attendant holding a _full service_ sign. About three inches tall, it resembled something he'd expect to find in a gas station display.

Soda smirked. "Bossman ordered a Christmas display for the station, but they sent the wrong attendant figurines. Said we could have them. I must'a been nuts thinking I'd use it for something." The figurine reminded Sodapop of something else. "Darry mentioned those boxes," he said quietly, nodding his head in their direction. "Said he was gonna put that stuff back if, ya know, we didn't do something with it."

Ponyboy looked at the boxes. "You want some popcorn?" he asked, ignoring the issue as he got up from the couch.

"Extra butter," nodded Soda.

Ponyboy went to the kitchen to start the popcorn, casting a wary eye toward the boxes every now and then.

"It's back on," called Sodapop.

"Be right there," Pony answered, pouring the corn into the hot oil and putting the lid on the kettle.

"Ya know, if you put a drop of food coloring in with the oil, you can make it -"

"I'm not interested in having funky-looking popcorn," Pony teased as he came back to the couch. There wasn't any time to sit as the first _ping_ of popcorn was soon heard, followed by another, and another.. and before long it sounded as if firecrackers were blasting under the kettle's lid.

"Catch it quick," laughed Soda as they both jumped off the couch. The lid was popped right off the kettle and kernels of popcorn flew here and there as they moved the kettle from the heat.

"Darry's gonna think I took all that butter," Ponyboy said, noticing how much Soda had just melted for the popcorn.

"Nah, I'll pick some up later. C'mon, let's see if Pluto's found Chip and Dale yet."

The sounds of popcorn being munched mingled with Pluto and Mickey, and for a while neither brother said anything about the boxes. As the television droned on with holiday carols sung by animated characters, the contents of those boxes nagged at both boys. Memories. Hope. Laughter. Love. Sadness. All taped together in worn, brown boxes.

Collectively, those boxes contained the many Christmas ornaments that had been cherished by their mother. Her favorite had been a small angel, an angel so plain and simple that no one could understand why it was her favorite. It wasn't an heirloom, wasn't associated with anything special. It wasn't even colorful, wearing a faded brown dress. Ponyboy had often asked his mother why that one was so remarkable, but she never gave a solid answer. She just liked it, and that was that.

While that angel was drab and plain, the other ornaments were loads more cheerful. Many were handmade creations, constructed by the boys when they were younger. When their father had a few extra nickles, he'd supplemented the decorations with store bought baubles and tinsel. Their collection was never so grand to think it could grace the cover of _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine, but to their mother it was even fancier. It made her happy, and to the boys and their father, that was the important thing.

Aside from the ornaments, her favorite decoration had been the Nativity that had been piecemealed together over the years. Darrel had given her a simple Creche with the Holy family a few years after they'd been married. As they grew older, her boys supplemented their father's gift with various yet often mismatched wise men. A few more years later, the friends of her sons supplied extra characters such as a shepherd and several barn animals. Two-Bit surprised her the most when one day he came up with a very fancy drummer boy for the Nativity. Said he'd found it at a steal of a price in a bible store downtown and wanted her to have it. She knew quite well what he'd meant but chose to turn a blind ear and eye to it, feigning naivety when the boys all smiled a little too giddily when she'd placed it in the manger.

Then, a few days after Christmas last year, their father had asked Darry to watch his brothers so he could take their mother out to a real fancy dinner. Darry had other plans but reluctantly agreed. He thought nothing of it when his parents left, promising to return before eleven. A little after eleven, Darry started checking the windows. By midnight, he coupled that with tapping at his watch. Nearly another hour later, the police arrived with devastating news. Neither parent would be returning, they had both been killed in a traffic accident.

Deep in grief and mired in worry, the three brothers took down the tree with more care than ever. Each decoration was wrapped in tissue paper and put away in the same boxes their mother had gotten them from just weeks earlier. When all the decorations were wrapped and sealed in the boxes, Darry returned the boxes to their spot in the basement.

Now this year, the pain of that night seemed almost as raw. It was their first Christmas without them.

"We don't have to," Soda remined Ponyboy carefully. "Darry said he'd just put them back in the basement. No big deal."

"It ain't that I don't want to," Ponyboy said slowly. "It's just... I dunno. I … it's just been a bummer year, I guess."

"Yup," Soda said with a quiet nod. "I don't know about you, but I'll be kinda glad when it's over."

"Yeah."

Ponyboy's head swam with visions of everything that had happened in the course of the last twelve months. His parents died. He and Darry drifted apart. Sodapop dropped out of school. Then the fight, the murder in the park, and that long week in Windrixville ending in fire.

But the pain wasn't over yet.

He'd lost Johnny. Lost Dally. Darry had had enough with his being in a fog, had told him that people couldn't quit living just because they lost someone, but Ponyboy wanted to. He was so tired of hurting, so tired of sadness that the constant thought of it ate at him. Ate him raw on the insides. Ate at him until a letter, a letter forged almost from the grave and hidden in a book, told him to look at sunsets and not to worry so much.

He let go the worry, but it still hurt. A little less, perhaps, but it still hurt. And now a year had gone by and he wasn't so sure he could just act and feel as if this Christmas was any different than previous years, before his world changed.

_What to do, what to do?_ He thought of his mother and how, no matter how poor they'd gotten, she always kept her faith. "Mom would want it out," he said decidedly and reached for a box.

He pulled out an ornament and unwrapped it. A firetruck only a few inches long with a green evergreen secured to its top dangled by its cord. Darry had made it over a decade ago. The paint was chipped in a few spots and one of the wheels was missing. Ponyboy knew that if his mother were there, she would have gotten her nail polish out and tidied it up. His heart suddenly hurt and he sat the truck back in the paper. He wasn't ready for this, not yet.

"Don't feel like it?" Soda asked, tossing another popcorn piece in his mouth.

Ponyboy shook his head. "I thought I did, but I guess not. Not really."

"I already told you, we don't have to. It's fine, Pone."

He looked at his brother with a pained expression. "We have to do something. Mom... would've wanted us to."

Sodapop gave Pony a careful glance, wiped his hands on his jeans then stood up. He had an idea. "C'mon. Get your coat on."

"Soda, it's nearly nine o'clock! Plus, it's freezing outside!"

"Better get a flashlight then, too. I'll get the ax."

"You're not serious?"

"Turn off the television and let's go."

XXX

"Explain to me what we're doing up here?" Steve grumbled in the cold. The heater had just started to warm up the car when Sodapop unexpectedly told him to pull over, then he and Ponyboy got out and disappeared into the woods.

"I think it's called 'aiding and abetting'." Two-Bit answered cheerfully.

"Tree lots all over town and they gotta go into Osage?" spat Steve.

"Are the Indians scaring you or are ya just jealous because they went alone," teased Two-Bit, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Steve glared at Two-Bit. "Why are you here?"

"It's my car. Remember? You just insisted on driving it."

Noise from the treeline made them both look up.

"_That's _what they wanted?" Steve asked aloud, as Ponyboy and Sodapop returned with something very unexpected.

Two-Bit laughed. "Can't wait to hear what Darry thinks of it!"

XXX

"You sure you don't want any help?" Steve asked, unsure.

"Naw, we got it. Anyway, it's late, thanks for your help."

"You sure about all this?" Steve pressed with some concern. He knew the score too well.

"Yeah," Sodapop nodded, unable to explain any better. "It's just something me and Pony got to do on our own. Don't worry, it's all good. We're fine. Later?"

"If you say so." Steve didn't look convinced but it didn't matter. He trusted Sodapop and knew he'd get the scoop on whatever was going down later. He turned and headed home.

Sodapop, meanwhile, went to help Ponyboy in the backyard. The temperatures had to be dropping even more as a thin layer of ice had formed on the steps. Ponyboy didn't seem to notice. His eyes were bright for the first time in a long while.

"I've got about half of the good one's off already. Think we'll need more?"

Soda looked at the pile. "No," he said with chattering teeth. "We'll leave the others, you know, in case we need to refresh it up later. C'mon, I'm 'bout to freeze so bad I can't feel my feet no more."

Inside, they cleared off the mantle and tackled the cut boughs of evergreen.

"You remember what box it's in or do we need to go through all of them?" Ponyboy asked, eying the boxes again. Soda looked over.

"I think it's in that one."

Sure enough, the box Soda had pointed to was the box they were looking for. As Nat King Cole and Tennessee Ernie Ford crooned on in the background, the box was opened and each piece taken out, dusted, and set in its proper place. An hour or so later the boys sat back and admired their work.

"Think Mom would have liked it?" Ponyboy asked softly as he gazed unblinkingly at the setup.

"You kidding? She'd'a loved it." Behind them, the clock chimed the one o'clock hour. Ponyboy yawned and Sodapop turned off the radio. "C'mon, time to get to bed. You go ahead and get ready while I lock up."

Ponyboy nodded and went to change into sweats and brush his teeth. Sodapop checked over the house and turned the porch light on, just in case Darry got off early, and went to get ready too.

"Think Dad would have approved?" Ponyboy asked later as he pulled the covers over himself.

Sodapop grinned, wondering what their father's reaction to his and Ponyboy's display would have been. "I think he would have found it... unique. Night, Pone."

"Night, Soda."

XXX

Darry was beyond tired when he finally trudged onto his porch. His back ached while every muscle in him smarted, and hoped Sodapop had a little Ben-Gay left. His boss had thought he was being generous by cutting work early for everyone, but to Darry it meant a little less pay he'd bring in. And at this time of the year, every penny counted.

He eased off his coat and boots, catching the unexpected scent of pine in his living room. Through the darkness, he spied the glint of light bouncing off something on the mantle. _Ponyboy_, he mused. Looking closer, he forgot – just for a moment – of his aches and pains, of the year that went so badly, and chuckled.

Among the Holy family, the stolen drummer boy, the too-large wise men, and the various animals that had accompanied their mismatched Nativity sat three new pieces: a broken firetruck loaded with a Christmas tree, a miniature gas station attendant, and a very drab angel.

He gave the display a good look then rubbed the stubble on his chin as he turned to go to bed.

"Yeah, Merry Christmas guys," he murmured.

Somehow, they'd all be okay.

XXX

Calla Lily Rose

Authors Note: I've been struggling with this for a while. Sorry for typos and wordiness. Reviews would be a great (and cheap) gift.


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